SPR 101 Parapsychology
by Eyeliner-Vampire
Summary: Cambridge University has got itself a new professor and he's about to start off the semester with a bang. One-shot


SPR 101 Parapsychology

Class 1; Meet the Professor

The classroom was larger than those usually found in the spare Science building. Old and small as it was, it was a wonder a room as big as this existed there. Rows of long benches took up the majority of the room, rising with each new row so that the room resembled something like a lecture hall. Most of the seats were filled by a smattering of disgruntled students. Some stared down at their blank notebooks newly bought for the semester, shading in the corner of the page. Still some more were say as far back in their chairs as the cheap plastic would allow, having neglected to bring anything at all. One in the back of the room clicked away on his laptop. They were quiet; all waiting for someone else to break the tension.

Somewhere in the background the A/C clicked on, filling the room was a faint humming.

"Um," one of the girls who'd taken up a seat near the middle of the room hummed nervously. She waved her pencil in the air as the rest of the hall turned to face her, "this is 6 o'clock Parapsychology, right?"

There was a sharing of curious looks; a murmur of assent.

"Where's the professor?" someone blurted, checking their watch. "Class should have started fifteen minutes ago."

"I heard he's new."

"Figures." A boy in the front row lamented. He leaned further back on his chair, crossing his arms, "He probably couldn't find the building, I know I had a hard time finding it."

The girl a few seats down from him pushed her blonde curls behind her ear, "I didn't even know this building existed until—"

The heavy wooden door slammed shut. The sound of it cracked like thunder through the room, making most jump in their seats.

"What the hell?" The boy's chair in the front row came back on all fours with a clatter. As if to punctuate his confusion, the lights overhead flickered.

The blonde beside him whimpered, shooting up from her chair. "W-what's going on?" she stammered, bathed in darkness then light again.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The classroom was still and quiet once again, except for the hum of the A/C. Those that weren't sitting crammed back in their seats were staring accusingly up at the old fluorescent lighting.

"...was that… a ghost?" The blonde girl was still standing, trembling from the look of it, a hand rested on the back of her chair. She shared a frightened look with another girl in the back who's eyes grew wide at the thought.

The boy in the front scoffed. He looked nervous, tugging at the collar of his blue shirt, but managed to force a frown, "It wasn't a ghost."

She turned to him, angry, "You can't know that. What if it was!"

"It wasn't."

"But it _could_ have been! The door moved all by itself—"

The boy in the back of the room stood. "You don't have any proof."

The class watched him close the lid of the laptop. He had a handsome face; square jaw and narrow dark blue eyes. The lines were beginning to show around his mouth, marking him the oldest in the room even if by only a few years.

Blue Shirt narrowed his eyes as if he didn't appreciate being agreed with. "Who are you?"

"Dr. Oliver Davis," he said, making it down to the bottom only to step behind the wide oak desk at the front of the room. "Though you may refer to me as professor."

The blonde haired girl's face fell, " _You're_ the professor?"

"Yes. And Blue Shirt is right, that activity was not caused by a ghost."

It took a moment for everyone to realize he was referring to the boy in the front row, who promptly glanced down at his own attire, saying, "I told you."

"But—!" The blonde went on, "It closed by itself. No one touched it."

The professor sipped from his dark brown, take-away cup and placed a single, thick red marker on the corner of the desk. After a moment, he set the cup down beside it, surveying the class. "Just because the cause of a disturbance is not immediately obvious does not mean it must have been caused by a ghost. You had no proof the door was shut by anything other than an accidental breeze or the slanting of the old door frame, yet you were quick to blame it on the paranormal."

She crossed her arms, "How do you know it wasn't cause by a ghost?"

"I know because the air-conditioning is on."

"What does that have to do—"

"The air-conditioning in this building is not central. It is run through a series of bulky machines placed in the windows." He gestured to the window at the back of the room was that impossible to see out of due to the hulking off-white machine that stuck out of it. "This causes the walls to shake which, in turn, caused the door to eventually slam shut."

Blondie looked more than skeptical, though her pursed lips told him she was reluctant to keep arguing. She slowly sank back into her seat. "Did that cause the lights to flicker too?"

"No," he said simply, "the wiring in these old buildings are not made to handle high capacity. Just the power it takes to charge my laptop was enough to make the shift the power and dim the lights. A simple plugging and unplugging of the cord would make them appear to flicker."

"That's not fair." The girl in the back mumbled, "You tried to trick us."

Professor Davis nodded, "You will find that most explanations for supposed supernatural events is simple human error or even done with intention. In its efforts to establish Parapsychology as a hard science, the British Society for Psychical Research is firm on research versus assumption. That is to say, as your professor I feel the need to establish a baseline. Who here believes in the existence of ghosts?"

Slowly, as if it were a trick question, the whole class raised their hands in some sort of acquiesce. Everyone except for the boy in the blue shirt.

Blondie picked up on this immediately, eyeing him with suspicion. "Why would you want to be a psychic researcher if you don't believe in ghosts?"

Blue Shirt rankled, "Why does it—"

"You will find," Professor Davis interrupted, "that it is difficult to direct blame to a thing in which you do not believe. Therefore, skeptical research tends to hold more weight than research from those who do."

Neither Blondie nor Blue Shirt had a reply for this. They both sat awkwardly in their chairs; Blondie picked up her pencil again.

Professor Davis walked around to the front of the desk where he leaned back against it, the cup of tea and marker by his elbow. "Okay, let's move on. I trust at least some of you should be able to tell me what a poltergeist is? There is no need to raise your hands, just say it."

The girl in the back raised her hand out of habit,letting it hover halfheartedly in the air beside her face as she said, "A poltergeist is a ghost with the ability to move objects and make loud noises that are observable on the living plane."

He arched an eyebrow. "That is half of it."

"Half?" The girl asked, suddenly shy. She sank back in her seat.

The professor nodded encouragingly, "In reference to people, what is a poltergeist?"

Blondie raised her hand half heartedly, "Do you mean people with so much energy that they can move objects just like a real poltergeist?"

"Precisely."

"There is no proof." Blue Shirt piped up. "We can't be sure people like that exist."

Professor Davis picked up his tea again, sipping it, "Can't we?"

"BSPR hasn't released any information on their existence either way." Blondie stated. Her voice had settled a bit, but she sounded upset over being challenged once again.

"This is true," the professor placed the tea cup back down on the other side of the desk. "Sometimes the human error side of investigations is small mindedness."

With that, the marker beside the professor rose into the air. It hovered there, waiting until all fifteen pairs of eyes were locked onto its floating form before descending again. It trembled slightly as it hit the desk and tipped over. Everyone watched it roll over the edge of the desk and clatter to the floor. No one made a sound.

Professor Davis smiled ruefully, a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. "Welcome to Parapsychology."


End file.
